January 28, 2021

Better pay, respect, opportunities for advancement, and ending sexual harassment: those were some of the reasons that activated the women's movement and workplace rights groups like 9to5 in the 1970s.  PBS Vermont hosted a statewide community conversation following a sneak preview of the film 9to5: The Story of a Movement directed by Julia Reichert and Steven Bognar, from Independent Lens on January 14, 2021.  Moderated by Rhoni Basden, the Executive Director of Vermont Works for Women, 9to5: The Story of a Movement Vermont conversation focused on the origins and growth of 9to5 in Boston with Janet Selcer the co-founder. With questions from the virtual audience, Cary Brown, Executive Director of Vermont Commission on Women and Rhoni the address the progress made since the 1970's and the work yet to do!

 See the trailer and watch the full-length film 9to5: The Story of a Movement.

January 2, 2021

Legislative After-Dinner Coffee & Conversation event, Thursday evening, January 14th from 7:00 – 8:30 PM

(Montpelier) – The Vermont Commission on Women (VCW) started the new legislative session with a public event examining how the COVID-19 pandemic impacts economic aspects of women’s lives, especially for women of color in our state. 

VCW’s Legislative After-Dinner Coffee & Conversation event, took place Thursday evening, January 14th from 7:00 – 8:30 PM, and featured a panel discussion with experts, an exploration of issues in small breakout room conversations, and a wrap up Q & A session. VIEW THE EVENT VIDEO HERE.

“We’re so pleased to present this opportunity to deepen understanding of how this pandemic disproportionately impacts women, and particularly those at the intersection of gender and race, who are impacted by both sexism and racism.” said Cary Brown, VCW’s Executive Director. “The goal of our event is to inform public policy, inspire questions, and encourage conversation. We’re especially excited to be the conduit for not only for data and research, but for Vermonters to tell their personal stories about how the pandemic profoundly changed their lives, and for policy makers from their community to hear those stories.”

Panelists included new VCW Commissioner Kiah Morris, Executive Director of Mercy Connections Lisa Falcone, and UVM Professor of Economics Stephanie Seguino.

Kiah Morris is an engaging and award-winning trainer on issues of diversity, equity and leadership. She currently serves as the Movement Politics Director for Rights and Democracy Vermont, a Sisters on the Planet Ambassador for Oxfam America, and an advisory council member for Emerge Vermont and Black Lives Matter Vermont. She served in the General Assembly as a State Representative from 2014-2016 and 2016-2018 and was the first African-American and person of color elected from Bennington County and the second African-American woman to be elected to the legislature in Vermont history. Her story of success and struggle have been covered internationally in over four dozen media outlets. Her artistic career, as an actress, in spoken word performance, and as a singer, dancer and arts manager focuses on amplification of voices of the oppressed, and issues of human rights and social justice. She’s recently authored Life Lessons and Lyrical Translations of My Soul, a book of poetry, and is currently filming a documentary on race in Vermont titled Colorlines in the Green Mountains with Long Shot Productions.

Stephanie Seguino’s work focuses on the economic institutions that lead to and perpetuate economic inequality. At UVM her teaching addresses the topics of Inequality, Poverty, and Wealth; the Political Economy of Race; Globalization and Well-Being; Gender and Development; and Macroeconomics, Economic Development, and Growth. She contributes to research on macroeconomic policy tools for financing and promoting gender equality. She is co-author of numerous studies of Vermont’s traffic stop data to identify and understand racial disparities in Vermont policing, a report series titled Trends in Racial Disparities in Traffic Stops. She is a Research Associate of the Political Economy Research Institute at the University of Massachusetts/Amherst and a Fellow of the Gund Institute for the Environment and works as advisor or consultant to numerous international organizations including the World Bank, UN Development Program, the Asian Development Bank, US Agency for International Development, and UN Women.  Professor Seguino is also an accomplished photographer; her work can be viewed at

Lisa Falcone is the Executive Director of Burlington’s Mercy Connections, a community-based, multi-cultural, economic, and social justice agency providing opportunities for people to pursue their goals and achieve better lives. Mercy Connections staff educates, matches needs to resources, transcends barriers and embraces radical inclusion. Their programs and classes support re-entry for women coming out of prison and educate adults who are focused on well-being, academics, job readiness, business ownership and US citizenship. Lisa previously served as Working Bridges Director for the United Way of Northwest Vermont, and as Founder and Senior Advisor of WorkLab Innovations, a start-up organization supporting communities across the country in building sustainable workplace practices through employer networks. Her work has also included positions in higher education and in business and industry workforce development.

legislative after dinner coffee and conversation, the disproportionate impact of COVID-19 event logo with many female-identified Vermonters pictured

December 22, 2020

(Montpelier, VT) – Speaker of the House Mitzi Johnson has appointed Kiah Morris of Bennington and Kerin Durfee of Burlington to serve on the Vermont Commission on Women (VCW), the state’s non-partisan commission working to advance rights and opportunities for women and girls.

These appointments represent history in the making: they mean that three African-American women will be serving as Commissioners – the highest number in the Commission’s 54-year history. “We’re thrilled to have Kiah and Kerin,” said VCW Executive Director Cary Brown, “and we’re especially grateful to have a Commission that more fully represents Vermonters, recognizes the necessity of dismantling structural inequities and injustice, and moves us toward a vision of Vermont that embraces all its people.”

Kerin Durfee is Director of Earned Revenues and Guest Services at ECHO, Leahy Center for Lake Champlain, a science and nature museum located on Burlington’s waterfront. She provides executive leadership, overseeing the museum’s admission, registration, and retail operations, as well as developing customer service training and protocols. Prior to this position, she was City Market, Onion River Coop’s Front End Manager for 12 years.  She holds a master’s in business administration in Strategic Resource Management from Norwich University.  She is a member of the national NAACP and a participant in Emerge Vermont’s program, recruiting and training Democratic women to run for political office.  Durfee was recently appointed by the Burlington City Council to serve on the city's Police Commission. 

Originally from Chicago, Kiah Morris lives in Vermont where she served in the general assembly as a State Representative from 2014-2016 and 2016-2018. She is the first African-American and person of color elected from Bennington County and the second African-American woman to be elected to the legislature in Vermont history. Her story of success and struggle has been covered internationally over four dozen media outlets including CNN, The Huffington Post, New York Times, Washington Post, The Hill, Essence Magazine, Canadian Broadcasting Company, PBS, BBC Radio and Vice Media.

She is an award-winning, in-demand trainer, speaker and presenter. She provides consultative services, workshops and presentations on issues of diversity, equity and leadership for organizations across the globe. Morris currently serves as the Movement Politics Director for Rights and Democracy Vermont. She is a Sisters on the Planet Ambassador for Oxfam America and is on the advisory councils for Emerge Vermont and Black Lives Matter Vermont.

Morris also holds an accomplished artistic career as an actress of stage, film and television, spoken word performance, and as a singer, dancer and arts manager. As an arts advocate with a passion for community-based art, she has produced numerous special events, concerts and art exhibits during her career. Her work focuses on amplification of voices of the oppressed, issues of human rights and social justice. She is also the author of a recently published book of poetry, Life Lessons and Lyrical Translations of My Soul, and is currently filming a documentary on race in Vermont titled Colorlines in the Green Mountains with Long Shot Productions.

The Vermont Commission on Women (VCW) is an independent non-partisan state commission working to advance rights and opportunities for women and girls. Sixteen volunteer commissioners and representatives from organizations concerned with women's issues guide VCW's public education, coalition building, and advocacy efforts.

For immediate release: December 22, 2020
Contact: Lilly Talbert, VCW Communications Coordinator | 802-498-8806
Note: Photos VCW Commissioners can be found here

November 13, 2020

The New England Women’s Policy Conference, “The Time is Now: Gender Justice, Antiracism, and Systemic Change” will be held virtually the mornings of December 2-4. This biennial conference is organized by the New England Women’s Policy Initiative, and hosted by UMass Boston's Center for Women in Politics and Public Policy, the Vermont Commission on Women, and women’s commissions, women’s funds, and other partners throughout New England.

Conference participants will utilize an intersectional lens, taking into account inequities related to race, gender, ethnicity, class, immigrant status, and other social identities, to address the economic security, health, and wellbeing of women, their families, and their communities. 

Workshop themes include Low-Wage and Essential Workers; Health and Healthcare; Policing Women of Color and LGBTQ Communities; and Childcare and Education.  Vermont will be well represented among presenters, including activist Noel Riby-Williams of Montpelier, Kiah Morris of Rights and Democracy, VT Senator-elect Kesha Ram, and Aly Richards of Let’s Grow Kids.  The conference offers a great opportunity for young people interested in exploring public policy, as a separate IGNITE program track features the sessions “Amplifying Young Women’s Voices” and “Young and Running”, with the goal of building a pipeline of next-generation leaders poised to flex their political power. 

The keynote speaker is Representative Ayanna Pressley, the first Black woman elected to Congress from Massachusetts (and previously, to the Boston City Council).

Join us in this engaging collaboration to imagine together how we can transform inequitable systems in New England and beyond. Learn more and register.

October 21, 2020

By Guest Blogger, former VCW intern Ana Cimino Burke

Advancing public policy grounded in equity and justice is a passion of Ana’s. She has taken this passion and using her infertility journey as a backdrop, penned this piece, using the keypad to hold space for folks who want to share their stories and list what support resources exist because affordable, safe, and quality fertility care IS an economic, racial, and reproductive justice issue.


*To honor the confidentiality of interviewees who wished to remain anonymous, I wove their voice into the article or, in two instances, changed their names to Samuel and Jane.

After a year of struggling to conceive, I sought help from a fertility specialist in 2019. I discovered that I have a unicornuate uterus (half of a uterus with one functioning fallopian tube). In short, this rare condition makes it difficult to conceive and carry a baby to term. Warning: the google trap will steer you down a hole littered with frightening statistics. Proceed with caution or avoid it altogether. I had surgery in October 2019 to remove the nonfunctioning fallopian tube and to make sure the other was not blocked. I remember waking up from surgery and through the fog muttered one word, “IVF?” My doctor knew what I meant. I was asking whether my remaining tube was blocked, which, if it was, my only option would be In Vitro Fertilization [IVF]. IVF is cost prohibitive and more invasive than Intrauterine Insemination [IUI]. She told me, “no IVF.” Fast forward through three failed IUIs between January and June 2020 [we skipped, of course, April and May because of COVID-19]. Our doctor encouraged us not to give up on IUI, so we are trying IUI number four this month.

When I try to explain what infertility means to me, the feeling that most often presents itself is shame – shame and I are well acquainted, but that’s another story for another time. I want to dismantle the socially constructed expectations of family and womxn that perpetuate this shame, but I also want to validate that for so many struggling with infertility, shame is the common thread that holds us together. Compounding my shame is the growing financial burden, grief, and my silent suffering – in 2019 I fell into a deep, I mean deep, depression. I found myself wanting to shield others from feeling like they were going to “say the wrong thing” if we mentioned it. I did not want them to feel guilty for how quickly they became pregnant for the first or second time. But also, I did not want to hear their opinion on whether or not I should jump to – without knowing our financial situation - IVF or adoption. So, I only spoke about it with a few people, and similar to the way I cope with other traumatic events in my life, I quickly hid my pain behind a smile and witty quip.

The pandemic has stirred some additional feelings of anxiety and immense guilt – guilt because I am obsessed with conceiving while the world is figuratively and literally on fire. Although I am grateful to access a safety net by phone or web, I am missing the comfort of my partner’s presence during my procedures. At my clinic, partners are not allowed in the room during check-ups or IUI procedures under COVID-19, which I appreciate as it is necessary to maintain public health, but each time I visit the doctor, I am alone. I know there are so many who have experienced this feeling for a variety of reasons.

I now find it cathartic to share my story because fertility treatment robs you of a feeling of calmness and control. But I recognize that, as a white, heterosexual, cis-woman with access to medical care and decent insurance, how disparate the experience is for persons who identify as BIPOC and/or LGBTQ+ or non-binary, especially when discrimination and racism permeate our institutional and social structures. Consequently, I decided to use the pen – er, keypad - to hold space for folks who want to share their stories and list what support resources exist because affordable, safe, & quality fertility care IS a reproductive, economic & racial justice issue.  When we care for and invest in every member of our community and their needs, we participate in collective community care and build a world in which everyone thrives.

I began my research by digging into various articles online and then posting on social media to elicit stories from those who wanted to come forward – anonymous or otherwise. I framed the topic around the impact of infertility, socially constructed expectations on family planning, and the barriers to accessing affordable, safe & quality fertility healthcare. I received several messages and a few from folks who wished to answer these questions in addition to a few more that I drafted.

Although most diagnostic care is covered by insurance, treatment is not. And if you do not have insurance or the one you do have is lackluster, the financial barrier to reproductive healthcare is heavy. According to an article written by Jessica Grose in the New York Times, IVF remains an untenable financial barrier to family planning. Specifically, Grose notes, “in the United States the average cost per cycle of I.V.F. is over $10,000, and most infertile couples pay that fully out of pocket, as fertility treatment is not a benefit health insurance tends to cover.”[1] To me, this kind of treatment is designed for the wealthy – who, more often than not, as a result of systemic racism and discrimination – are white, heterosexual, and cisgender.

Samuel*, who identifies as a person of color, heterosexual, and cis-man, shared that after a little over three years of trying to conceive, his family decided to try IVF treatment. Although costly, his partner and he made the choice because they are both sickle cell trait carriers and the general testing associated with IVF also screens for sickle cell. Samuel and his partner went through two rounds of IVF, the second producing a viable embryo that attached. However, it was not without heartache. They originally had 33 eggs, but only had only one viable embryo. Devastated and exhausted, they carried on like so many before them. The last embryo attached and seven days after their fifth wedding anniversary his partner gave birth to a healthy baby. But this all came at a cost. At the time, they did not have comprehensive insurance and he could not use his partner’s insurance for his diagnostic care, so they paid for both out of pocket. In order to do so, they took out a home equity line of credit, used money from a retirement account, paid for some charges using a credit card, and received financial assistance from family. Samuel and his partner are not alone. Thousands of individuals and families are forced into substantial debt to cover the exorbitant costs of fertility care and treatment. Samuel told me that the total cost of all the fertility treatments including both IVF procedures and genetic testing was approximately $42,000 and three years later, they are still paying off some of the debt. But he remarked that even with the heartache and financial setbacks, he would do it again to have his daughter.

Jane* who identifies as a queer, white cis-woman, did not know where to begin and what the first steps would be – should they try at home first or seek fertility treatment right away?  They started with IUI, but relied on an anonymous sperm donor. Jane remarked at the surprising expense of a sperm donation – an expense most cis-hetero couples do not have to face - and there are not a lot of accessible sperm banks in New England. They ultimately used one in Boston after learning about a longstanding partnership with the University of Vermont which benefited them a 40% discount on the cost of the donations. But not everyone knows about this partnership so it would be helpful for individuals and families to have as much digestible information about the costs associated with fertility treatment before making these decisions. For many, the automatic expense of sperm donation, IUI procedure, or other fertility care is an untenable barrier to creating a family.

In my research, I came across an article describing a fertility equality movement which is grounded in the idea that creating families should not be determined by financial status, sexuality, gender, or biology.[2] This viewpoint disrupts the heteronormative view of fertility and family planning. Although some states do mandate insurance coverage there is more red tape that often precludes people – especially LGBTQ+ families or individuals – from accessing coverage. This movement is to ensure affordable coverage for everyone and to dismantle the additional legal or social barriers experienced by LGBTQ+ couples and individuals who want to start a family. Mario Leigh, the founder of Affordable Families, a Connecticut based advocacy organization, is partnering with Representative Liz Linhan to draft a bill with inclusive language and more affordable, robust insurance coverage.

Institutional & Social Barriers

According to Women’s Health Magazine, who, in partnership with the Black Women’s Health Imperative, conducted a survey among 1,000 women of multiple races, found that “black women were more than twice as likely as white women to say that they wouldn’t feel comfortable talking about their fertility issues with friends, family, a partner, their doctor, or even a support group.”[3] The article then explains that for many, this stems from “a distrust of the medical system” originating from oppressive care and racial discrimination.[4] We have heard the narrative and seen the statistics, BIPOC women are at a higher risk for maternal mortality than white women because of a lack of access to comprehensive care and education about reproductive health – both of which are inextricably linked to systemic racism.[5] Samuel* found that in addition to the financial impact, there is a lack of awareness and education in his community around reproductive health for people who identify as male. He shared that in his family it is expected to have children and a lot of them. So much so that during each joyful gatherings with family, conversations centered on when he and his partner would have children, but not on reproductive health or fertility risks. He also shared that when they did not conceive right away, the assumption was that his partner, a cis-woman, was to blame – either she did not want kids or was infertile. It wasn’t until he sought fertility treatment that he learned he has oligospermia (low sperm count), varicocele, and testicular microlithiasis (a possible risk factor for testicular cancer).  His partner is fertile. He did not like that his wife was taking the blame for something that was not her fault, but that people assumed she was to blame – I would like to emphasize that infertility is no one’s fault. Because of his experience, he wants to demystify the shame that men might feel when seeking sperm analysis or diagnostic care and encourages prioritization of their reproductive health. And to remind them of their role in this journey, too, and that the testing, research, and stress should not fall on one partner – regardless of their fertility – because you’re a team.

Additionally, BIPOC or LGBTQ+ folks generally do not see themselves reflected in mainstream advocacy efforts or educational materials. In response, leaders like Regina Townsend, who started  The Broken Brown Egg, are creating organizations and groups to increase representation, education, and discussion. On her website, she remarks, “infertility is lonely enough without feeling like a minority inside of a minority.”[6] In my conversation with Jane* she stressed how mainstream messaging is geared towards cis-hetero individuals and is often paralleled by exclusionary insurance and a medical system that uses language such as “natural conception” or assumes that the more feminine presenting person in a couple will be the gestational carrier. The unintended consequence is an invalidation of a person or couple’s family planning process. She added that this mirrors the messaging she received as a teen. I, as well as several others I spoke with, can relate. In high school and in conservative or religious rhetoric, we are often told we cannot become pregnant. That we must remain abstinent to be a “good” and “pure” girl so we can have families after marriage. This myopic, cis-hetero, and sexist viewpoint perpetuate a false narrative that people cannot own their sexuality and ultimately – reproductive health.

Compounding these experiences are a lack of access to treatment centers or support networks for some. In rural states like Vermont with a limited public transportation system, fertility clinics or support groups might be difficult to physically access.  Jessica Grose writes that “40 percent of American women of reproductive age have limited or no access to nearby fertility treatments.”[7] Arguably this is shifting under the pandemic as telehealth has become a mainstay, but for folks without internet access or reliable transportation to appear for IUI or IVF appointments, this remains an institutional barrier to reproductive care and treatment.

So, where do we go from here?

I feel like I have only scratched the surface – I am missing so much here. I want to conduct more interviews and research to gather statistics and harness the power of those experiencing infertility into legislative action and policy change including a thorough analysis of current insurance coverage, what other states are doing, and how that would work in Vermont – for everyone. I want the state to pass comprehensive legislation mandating accessible and comprehensive insurance coverage for fertility treatment and ultimately, dismantle other economic and social barriers to fertility care. Because affordable, safe, & quality fertility care IS a reproductive, economic & racial justice issue.

For now, I hope these short pieces highlight the profound feelings and experiences attached to infertility. Jane* feels lucky to have a strong support network of friends and families who ground their love in compassionate community care. But we discussed how we need more community spaces that normalize fertility treatment where people feel connected and supported; no longer hidden behind the pain and silent suffering.

If you’re experiencing infertility, we see you.



This list is not exhaustive and I am only scratching the surface.

-  Cost-saving:

-  Guide to fertility insurance by state:

-  Grants to cover infertility costs:

Advocacy Organizations:

o   Resolve *state by state list of Fertility doctors.

o   Fertility Within Reach

o   Affordable Families

o   The Broken Brown Egg

o   Black Mamas Matter Alliance

o   Chapter Organization – Fertility for Colored Girls

o   Black Women’s Health Imperative


o   The Black Girls Guide to Infertility

o   Infertility and Me

o   This is Infertility

o   If These Ovaries Could Talk


Blog Citations:









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